


It Goes Like This

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Multi, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:32:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four wizards, one independent witch.  Will their domineering, but not entirely unwelcomed ways lead her to back to the stone-ages? Or will she show them the beauty of feminine superiority?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shoe Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. 
> 
> PROLOGUE

"Well, look at that," he commented, looking at the lovely witch across the cobblestoned street.

The blond wizard next to him shifted focus to his friend's line of sight. His eyebrows rose. "Nice."

"I love spring time. Flowers blooming, bees buzzing-"

"Witches wearing short skirts and skimpy tops."

"Exactly."

The four wizards sat watching the young woman from their table at the café. It had been unseasonably warm, resulting in the afternoons being perfect for witch-watching.

They watched her move slowly from one boutique to another, pausing at the window display of rows upon rows of shoes.

Draco smiled. "Gets them every time."

Their mood soured a bit as a chunky redhead lumbered up and wrapped a clumsy arm around the witch. "Weasley," Blaise drawled, clearly unhappy with the intrusion on his view.

"Wait, that's not _Granger_ is it?" Draco asked incredulously. His grey eyes bouncing around, looking for some resemblance to the bushy-haired witch he knew in school.

"When did she get back?" Pucey asked, remembering the headlines when she left the country four years ago.

"The better questions is when did she grow up? I don't remember those lovely legs belonging to anything Granger," Blaise commented.

The large, dark-haired wizard, sitting to the left of Pucey hadn't spoken a word since he'd first noticed her. Marcus Flint appraised the slight witch with approving eyes.

**OoOoO**

"'Mione! There you are. Been looking everywhere for you. Why are we looking at shoes? They're for girls."

Hermione looked at her long-time friend, pointedly, mentally wondering how he'd somehow not seen this even after their brief stint as a couple.

Ron got the picture and stuttered, "Not that you're not a girl, but _these_ shoes are for _girls_." He paused then continued when his statement had not placated the quick-tempered witch. "I mean these are too high for you to walk in, you know? Impractical," he said and looked at her with hope in his eyes. He didn't want to be Hexed yet again. "And everyone knows that Hermione Granger is anything if practical."

Hermione smirked and looked down at the high heels she was wearing: beige strappy sandals that increased her height four inches.

Ron followed her gaze and grunted. "Right. Well, I'll just go check out the new Quidditch Supply," he mumbled. Ron clumsily kissed her on the cheek and left.

Hermione smiled after him, shaking her head at his total oblivion then wiped her face. He was still a wet kisser, even if it was just a peck.

She was a confident witch; though the confidence had been hard won after a couple of years on her own without her two best friends and familiar surroundings. But coming back, she realized that she still held some insecurities as to her appeal to the male population. There were times when she liked being impractical, she thought, with a smile.

Hermione sighed and looked at her reflection in the window. She was wearing a linen cream-colored sundress with spaghetti straps and muted flowers. It was snug fit to her natural waist then straight and flowy to the middle of her thighs. The seam was hidden by a brown leather belt, which matched her shoes.

She'd lost her baby weight during war, but she still had sported a round face and slight potbelly. University had changed that. Her round face and potbelly were gone now, replaced by sharper features and longer-looking limbs. Exercise had become a habit since then and now she was slender and lithe and toned.

Hermione smoothed her hair; the soft breeze had tossed a few strands around her face.

She'd cut it upon her University graduation, but it had since grown back thicker, if that were possible, but not frizzy. It was wavy and dark russet in color. It fell to just beneath her shoulder blades.

Her eyes focused on the reflection in the window once again; her body and dress. Everything looked just fine, she thought.

Before moving to enter the shoe establishment, her eye caught the four wizards at the table behind her. They were watching her. _Probably trying not to laugh_ , she thought, feeling silly to have been caught inspecting herself.

She recognized the platinum blond hair: Malfoy. His presence didn't spark any kind of negative feeling. They were adults now. The others only looked vaguely familiar to her. She assumed that they had attended Hogwarts as well and that she'd seen them around.

Blinking, she tilted her head. They were smiling… at her. Then, just as she felt the burn of embarrassment on her cheeks, one of them waved. It made her giggle, even if they were only tearing the mickey.

Opting to play a bit of hard-to-get, she squared her shoulders and walked through the door of the shoe shop, wearing a slight smile in plain view.

**oOoOo**

Pucey chuffed as Granger wiped at her face. "He slobbered on her."

"Yuck. Weasley slobber," Draco said with a scowl.

This new Granger turned to face the window once again. She stood there not moving.

"She must really like shoes," Blaise answered.

"She's not looking at the shoes," Pucey informed them.

"She looks fine; more than fine," Draco snapped.

"Don't be a boor, Draco. Wouldn't you wonder why Weasley let you go and Potter never made his move?" Blaise asked. Adrian turned to look at Blaise. The dark Italian was not usually a deep-thinker, so the comment was startlingly valid.

Draco thought he had a point, but then wondered aloud. "Maybe Potty did make his move. Maybe that's why she left Weasel-bee."

No one commented.

Marcus smiled. "She's not looking at herself anymore; she's watching us watch her."

They all smiled.

Blaise waved just to ensure she knew that they knew.

It made her drop her head and hide a smile. Soon after, she squared her shoulders and she walked inside.

"I think we should welcome her back to town. What say you?" Marcus asked already standing and pushing in his chair.

Draco followed suit. "I've always been curious as to how witches walk in such devices."

**oOoOo**

Hermione distantly heard the doorbell ring as another customer entered, but didn't pay it any mind. She was torn between the slightly pinkish beige Peacock heels and the lace up Oxford pumps. She decided to try on both pair: one on one foot and the other on the other foot.

Walking back and forth, watching her feet in the floor mirrors, she thought they felt comfortable, made her feet look pretty and didn't pinch her toes at all; this led her to remain undecided. Twisting each foot this way and that, not paying attention to her surroundings, she startled when a deep voice spoke so close that she felt the warmth of his breath on the skin of her shoulder.

"Both look lovely on your feet, Granger."

Hermione wondered briefly why she hadn't noticed the other person's feet in the mirror. She turned to face the speaker. Instead of looking eye to chin as she did with Ron and Harry, she was face to chest.

Time slowed as her mind adjusted to this new development. Her eyes took in every detail of his dark collared shirt that fit comfortably snug over his broad and decidedly muscled chest. Her eyes skipped across the wide expanse of his solid looking shoulders, his thick corded neck, with a dark pointed tattoo peeking out from under his collar and across the pulsing vein, which sped up slightly as she perused. Those same brown eyes slid over his very masculine jaw line, defined cheekbones and dark-as-ink blue eyes. She immediately took a step back when their eyes met. His were twinkling with amusement and hers were uncertain and mildly embarrassed.

She smiled hesitantly at the wizards watching her drink in the form of the man in front of her. She swallowed the thickness in her throat, and looked for a familiar face. "Hello, Dra- Malfoy."

Draco smiled. It was disarming. It dawned on her at that moment why the girls all had spoken so …highly of him during school. She hadn't thought he was anything but vile then, but now she thought he was rather dashing, with his hair a bit longer and slanted over his forehead to the corner of his eye.

They watched each other only for a moment before he inhaled and moved to the side, but in that moment, pasts were forgiven and a new start was embarked. "You remember Blaise Zabini?"

The dark Italian nodded his head, took her hand and bowed to kiss her knuckles. "Hermione," he greeted.

Hermione blushed and nodded. "Blaise, it's nice to see you again."

Her eyes were moving to the two wizards waiting patiently for an introduction.

"This is Adrian Pucey. And the behemoth looking at you like you're his last meal is Marcus Flint. He and Pucey were upper classmen during our first and second years at Hogwarts." Draco finished the introductions and smiled as Hermione's eyes roamed hungrily over Marcus' large muscled form. She had to mentally scold herself in order to form a passably polite greeting. As it was, she panted out their names, making them smile and her blush deeper.

They stood there, eyeing each other up. The seconds ticked by in mutual adoration until the portly sales lady interrupted. "Shall I box the shoes for you, miss?"

Hermione twitched then looked down at the shoes. "Yes, both pair, please."

"Is that all for you today?" the sales lady asked, with a disapproving eye to the four wizards still mentally undressing the small witch.

"Yes, I'm all done. Thank you." Hermione toed off the shoes and the woman grabbed them up to box them.

Not knowing what to do or say, Hermione shifted from one bare foot to the other.

"Will you be walking around barefoot the rest of the day?" Adrian asked, his green eyes twinkling with humor at her apparent discomfort.

"We wouldn't mind, Granger. You have pretty feet. I could stand to look at them all day," Blaise added, licking his bottom lip.

"Or sucking on those delicious toes," Marcus mumbled.

Hermione didn't quite hear what they said, but she did hear Draco hiss at them.

Hermione felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. Placing her shoes back on her feet, she stood. The sales lady handed her the boxed and bagged purchase. Hermione looked at her with a curious expression.

"The blond paid."

Hermione's eyes met the over-confident gray eyes of her school nemesis. She frowned and put her hands on her hips. "That's awfully presumptuous of you, Draco. I can pay for my own shoes."

Draco smiled at her haughty tone. "But it was my pleasure to buy you something nice."

Blaise wanted to diffuse the situation before it concluded with a whining Malfoy and an angry, absent, Granger. "Where shall we go next, Hermione? Perhaps the ladies boutique a few stores down?"

Hermione blinked, understanding dawning. She was slightly offended. She realized that she'd been gone a while, but surely these wizards didn't think they could run rough shod over her. Was this type of domination accepted by the witches they encountered on a regular basis? Probably, she surmised. Most women loved take charge men; she did as well, but there was a time and a place, neither of which was the here and now.

Smiling the sweetest most tolerant smile she could muster, which made the hairs on Blaise's arms stand on end, she said, "I don't know where _you_ are visiting next, but _I_ am going to the book store. And Draco, I will pay you back for my shoes. Of that, you can be certain." It was clear that there was no 'we' in that equation.

It was a matter of moments for her to take her bag from the proud sales lady, and click clack out of the store with four wizards staring at her back and looking confused.

"Did she just _decline_ our company?" asked Adrian, who hadn't heard the word 'no' in a decade, and that was by his mother, who changed her mind a moment later when he pouted at her.

Marcus chuckled. "I believe she did."

Draco smiled, too.

Blaise nodded. "She's a feisty one. Shall we?"

Marcus was out the door before they had finished speaking. He made to catch up to the uppity witch and let her know that it was not that easy to be rid of him.

He caught up to her just as she turned down the aisle for Thriller/Romance in the book store. It surprised him enough for him to lose his current train of thought. "Which is it, Granger? Thriller or Romance?"

Hermione tensed then sighed and turned to face him. Meeting his curious stare made her heart flutter a bit and her stomach to twist pleasantly. "Thriller, of course. I love it when the stalker is revealed and the stalk-ee gets to punish him for his assumptions."

Before he could share his rather dirty retort about him liking to be punished, especially if she was doing the punishing, Draco, Blaise and Adrian caught up the duo.

"And we can't forget that the stalker's merry band of miscreants are publically flogged for their association," Hermione added, dryly.

"I didn't picture you for Romance, Granger," Draco said in response, making them all laugh.

Adrian picked up a book and made a face at the cover. "You read this?"

Hermione eyed the cover: a large muscled warrior with long waving hair (obviously in a windy part of town) was holding a sword in one hand and a scantily clad, overly busty woman over his knee. His other large hand was cupping her cheek and she looked to be swooning to the point of total incapacitation.

Hermione shrugged, noncommittally. Maybe she'd pick it up on the way out.

Reading her correctly, Blaise asked, "What could you: Hermione Granger, know-it-all academic, possibly get from a book like this?"

"I like …words. And many of these types of book provide a more granular …view of events."

"What types of events?" Marcus wondered aloud, watching the heat from her skin travel from between her breasts up her neck and bleed onto her cheeks.

She closed her eyes. "You know what types of events, Marcus!" she hissed.

His name rolling from her angry, embarrassed lips went straight to his cock. He vowed to make her say his name like that as often as he could.

Blaise was chuckling and Adrian was fighting the urge to do the same.

Hermione huffed in indulged frustration as she saw the humor in their catching her in this aisle and the subsequent conversation. Soon, she couldn't hold it any longer and burst out giggling breathlessly.

The five were causing a stir, since they were all laughing uproariously.

That was until the mood dwindled and then ended altogether when a familiar antagonist intruded. "'Mione, what are you doing with …them?" Ron asked, scowling.

He then pulled Hermione roughly to his side with a beefy arm. "You can't have her!" he told them, pointing a stiff, stubby finger at them.

Hermione, irritated at the prevalent misogynistic attitudes, pushed away from the seething redhead. "I'm not a shiny new toy for you to play with, Ronald Weasley! Or you either!" she snapped at the four.

Inhaling loudly, she announced, "I'm leaving," and twisted, Disapparating with a quiet pop. The book she was holding dropped to the floor with a flomp sound.

Four angry eyes turned to Ron. "Nice one, Weasel. Do you repel all pretty witches or just her?"

Ron narrowed his gaze. "What do you want with her anyhow? It's just 'Mione; the Mudblood," he whispered that last part, "her blood status hasn't miraculously changed since the war."

Their expressions were somber. "But we have," Draco said before he, too, Disapparated.


	2. Malfoy Manor

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

The next afternoon, as Hermione made her way towards the Malfoy Manor entrance gates, determined to follow through with paying back the young Malfoy heir, she thought back to the previous evening.

She hadn't spoken to Ron except to inform him and the rest of the Weasley clan that she would be looking for a home of her own. She also thanked Mrs. Weasley for her hospitality in allowing her to stay upon her return to London. The declaration was met with a mixed reaction. Ron whined that she shouldn't live alone and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley humbly accepted her appreciation and told her they were happy she was back.

The majestic gates opened automatically, and she walked through. The path to the door was paved with slate stone, which made it easy for her walk in heels. Squaring her shoulders, she straightened invisible wrinkles from her sleeveless spring dress.

The dress was one of her favorites: white fitted bodice with a slightly flared four inch ruffle, starting from mid thigh to just above her knees. It had large red flowers printed on the light cotton fabric. Her shoes matched the flowers. She felt pretty in its simplicity.

As she arrived at the door, she took a calming breath and didn't think about the last time that she'd been here.

Gripping the large silver knocker, she knocked three times. Seconds later, she heard the click clack of heeled shoes approach. The door opened to reveal a beautiful blonde witch, who she knew to be the lady of the house: Narcissa Malfoy.

The woman's eyes widened a fraction, before she smiled.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy. My name is-"

"Hermione Granger. Please, come in."

Hermione smiled and stepped forward. "Thank you. I'm sorry to interrupt your afternoon, but I was looking for Draco. Is he here?"

If possible, Narcissa's smile broadened. "No, he's not. We expect him back shortly. Would you have tea with us, perhaps? We could wait for Draco together."

"I- Okay. Yes, thank you. Tea would be lovely." Hermione was aware of how her ‘dropping in’ could be viewed as rude, but she had a debt to pay and it was always best to square any obligations as soon as possible.

Narcissa closed the door and took Hermione's hand. "Wonderful. Marie?" she called as they walked past the drawing room that Hermione remembered, with a growing anxiety the young witch was not expecting.

Narcissa seemed to understand Miss Granger’s hesitation and propelled her forward into a lady's sitting room. Marie, the elf, had already set out tea with biscuits. The room was light, airy and feminine with large French doors that were opened to allow a slight breeze, bringing with it the scent of Verbena. It calmed Hermione's nerves almost immediately.

Conversation ended as Hermione took in her surroundings. "Oh, Mrs. Malfoy, I don't want to impose! I only came-"

Narcissa interrupted with a wave her delicate hand. "Nonsense. Please, sit down. I'll make introductions."

Marie poured the witches tea and served them biscuits on small flowered plates.

"Miss Granger, please meet Katesch Zabini-Rosier, Elizabeth Pucey, Rebecca Nott and Tova Flint. Ladies, allow me to introduce Hermione Granger."

"How do you do?" Hermione greeted, nodding at each of the ladies. She was a bit uncomfortable, but instead of acting skittish, she told herself to relax and act like a lady. The latter was offered mentally, in her mother's voice.

"I had heard you returned, Miss Granger. Are you just visiting or seeking permanent residence?" It was Katesch Zabini-Rosier. Hermione thought the woman was lovelier than any model she'd ever seen. Rumors of Blaise's mother's beauty had run rampant among the Hogwarts fourth and fifth year boys, but Hermione hadn't ever laid eyes on the woman until now.

"Permanent, Ms. Zabini-Rosier."

Katesch smiled, which knocked the breath out of Hermione; it was radiant. "Oh pish! Please call me Katesch."

"Thank you. You must call me Hermione then. Katesch is a beautiful name."

This earned Hermione a groan from the two ladies on her right: Elizabeth and Rebecca. They were clearly overly used to someone commenting on something of beauty in regards to Katesch. Hermione fought the urge to snicker.

"My mother was Egyptian, and named me for her grandmother."

Curiosity getting the best of her, Hermione prolonged the explanation. "And your father Italian? Is Zabini your maiden name then?" She had to ask. It was strange for a woman to hyphenate two married names.

"Yes! I gave my dear Blaise the family name; Morganna knows his father didn't deserve to have his name carried on."

A slightly awkward silence followed; everyone knew of Katesch's rather controversial luck with dying spouses.

Hermione sipped her tea and marveled at the fine taste. "This is delicious, Mrs. Malfoy." The elder witch smiled. She was thrilled Hermione Granger had shown up at her door. The girl was not only a war heroine, but also stunning. She was educated and obviously well-mannered. Narcissa had secretly kept track of the comings and goings of the illustrious Gryffindor.

Narcissa also knew that she was not the only one from her circle who had designs on the small witch. Hermione would make an exceptional addition to a family, especially ones with no daughters, and even ones with daughters; they were related in some way. Narcissa paused in thought; new blood equaled stronger magic. The Malfoy family would be stronger than ever! The tyrannical thought ran its course and without even one twitch of an eye.

Hermione felt surreal, being here at Malfoy Manor, having tea with _The_ Narcissa Malfoy and company. And though she was greeted with an exceptionally warm welcome, Hermione was still a little intimidated.

"Where are you staying presently, Hermione?" Elizabeth asked, adopting the familiar address. Hermione noted that her son clearly got his refined beauty from his mother.

"I've been staying at the Burrow, with the Weasleys, but it's time for me to leave gracefully before I outstay my welcome. I'm ready to begin house hunting."

Narcissa set her cup down on the small table. "Lucius has a number of properties that he owns. I'm sure he would be happy to assist you in your discovery for the perfect home." Narcissa was surprised she was able to say that with a straight face. It was a risk; she had no idea how Hermione would react to offering Lucius' assistance with anything.

As if the fates had listened in on the conversation, Lucius walked through the door to greet his wife, followed by three other gentlemen.

Hermione's heart thawed a bit at the brilliant expression of love on their faces when their eyes met their wives.

Focusing on Lucius for a moment, Hermione also remembered the desperation that Lucius Malfoy had presented when looking for his son during the battle. She knew then that he loved his son more than his own life. Someone that loved his family that deeply couldn't be all bad, she rationalized.

"Volunteering my services again, 'Cissa," Lucius teased. "Ladies," he greeted with a nod in their direction.

Narcissa stood just as Lucius stopped when he saw Hermione.

"Lucius, you remember Hermione Granger." There was an edge to Narcissa's voice and he knew that he was expected to be on his best behavior; not that he wouldn't have already, but his 'Cissy had a temper.

Smiling, he walked forward. "Miss Granger, a pleasure." He bowed over her hand, but didn't kiss it. Hermione was relieved.

"Mr. Malfoy." Hermione gave him a tight smile, but it wasn't all removed. There was some warmth to it. He was grateful for the girl's effort. He wasn't certain he'd have the fortitude to act similarly if the shoe were on the other foot, so to speak.

He turned back to the men currently waiting for introduction. "Hermione Granger, allow me to introduce you to Castor Flint, Pavo Pucey and Ragnar Rosier. Gentlemen, Hermione Granger."

Hermione was definitely intimidated now, though she didn't feel any malice, they were all watching her like she was a bug under a glass. "How do you do?" she asked, once again nodding in greeting. She wasn't able to make her feet move in their direction.

Lucius felt her anxiety and made to break the tension. "What brings you to our home?" he asked, making his way to pour himself a tumbler of brandy.

Hermione watched him unbutton the top button of his dress shirt and roll the sleeves to his forearms. He sat gracefully next to his wife and crossed his legs. The other men took his lead and found seats.

It was all very casually elegant. Though, Hermione did note that Castor Flint took up almost the entire length of a two-seat sofa. He was enormous she thought and schooled her features to reflect stoicism instead of a child about to be consumed by a monster.

Hermione's face must have said it all, because Pavo chuckled and remarked, "Come now, Miss Granger. We can't always follow formal protocol.

Lucius agreed. "This is our home after all. Where one can relax." In one sentence, he told her to lighten up and reminded her that she was a guest.

Smiling, a bit ashamed of herself and her slip in manners, she nodded. "Of course. I don't know what came over me. Please accept my apologies, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione's admittance surprised him, and Narcissa and the other ladies actually twittered.

Hermione didn't know what to do except explain her presence. "I was out shopping yesterday and ran into Draco, with Blaise, Marcus and Adrian. They followed me into a shoe store." She paused with a pointed look at the ladies, who all rolled their eyes at the young men's antics. "Draco bought my shoes, and I'm here to pay him back."

Lucius looked confused and Narcissa looked positively ecstatic. Tova looked chagrined, but Hermione couldn't tell. She didn't know if the woman was normally surly.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He cleared his throat. "Draco doesn't buy witches …things, Miss Granger. He feels, as I do, that that type of behavior only brings out the more avaricious sides of the opposite sex." Snorts of humor around the room filled the space, but all in all it was an agreeing sound, not one of contrary.

Hermione wasn't sure if she was offended or not, but she did acknowledge an understanding of how someone with a vault full of Galleons would assume that approach. She did, however, look directly at the jewels covering the neck, fingers, wrists and ears of his wife.

Lucius smirked. "Point taken, but she is my wife."

Hermione nodded. "Then perhaps he was trying to get me to like him. The last time I saw him – well, we didn't part on good terms."

"Did it work?" he asked.

Narcissa's face fell for a split second. "Lucius!" she hissed.

He glanced at his wife with a mildly fearful expression, but then returned focus to Hermione. He wanted an answer.

Hermione wanted to shout no, but she couldn't. "A bit… but I shan't let it continue; therefore, I'm here to pay him back."

"Did any of the other young men buy you any trinkets, Miss Granger?" Pavo asked, wanting to laugh outright at her indignation, and hoping that Adrian was mindful enough to act a gentleman with this witch. Pavo would be thrilled to have her as part of the Pucey family.

Hermione cleared her throat. "No. But Marcus did…"

Tova sat forward. "Did what?"

Castor was mildly alarmed. He wasn't sure how to read the pretty young heroine. "Did he harm you?!"

"No! No, of course not." She lifted her chin a bit – out of habit. "I can handle myself…" she let the sentence trail and ignored the amused expressions, "he followed me into a book store and teased me about what I was thinking of reading." She was pouting; she knew it, but it had both annoyed and flattered her.

Ragnar was chuckling quietly. He wouldn't tease though; this witch's temper was infamous.

Narcissa sipped her tea to hide her smile and then looked at Hermione's shoes. "Are those the pair, Hermione?"

Hermione raised her chin and straightened her already pin straight back. "No."

Hermione could tell that the wizards and witches in front of her wanted to laugh, but she wouldn't back down.

Just then a ruckus of sorts sounded from the foyer. Narcissa's eyes gleamed and she stood. "In here, Draco."

Four tall, ridiculously good-looking wizards sauntered into the sitting room, smiling as they realized who was visiting.

Draco spoke first, greeting his mother with a kiss and his father with a handshake. "Mum, Father." The other boys followed suit.

When Draco turned to Hermione, his toothy grin made her smile too. "Hermione, you missed me!"

"Not quite. I came to-"

"Marcus here has something for you, Granger." It was juvenile, the way that Blaise said it. But it had the desired effect, she shifted gears and looked at Marcus, who looked as uncomfortable as humanly possible. It also looked like Blaise's days alive were numbered.

"Marcus?"

Strangely, the room was silent; all listening intently to the conversation.

Marcus inhaled and shifted balance. He was slightly uncomfortable with all eyes on him. It was one thing to have fans cheer for you in a Quidditch Pitch stadium, but this was unnerving.

Dark eyes met pretty brown-hazel ones. Not breaking eye contact, he slowly reached behind is back.

Hermione heard rustling and tilted her head. He must have had it hidden in the small of his back, but she couldn't look away from his smoldering gaze to peak behind him. Pulling out what she immediately recognized was a book, her eyes lit up.

His hand shook slightly – she noticed – as he handed her the familiar paperback. It was the book Adrian had asked her about. It was the one with the warrior on the cover. Hermione's cheeks heated up. She knew they were tearing the mickey.

She took it from him, and when she looked up at him again, he looked uncertain. She got the impression that he wasn't poking fun.

"It's not a joke," Marcus said quickly.

Adrian stepped in with shaking his head. "Just something he thought you'd like," he defended.

Not wanting to react harshly, and not wanting to leave a bad taste in his mouth, she decided to get to the heart of why she had visited Malfoy Manor. Turning to Draco, she said, "I came to bring you the money for my shoes." She took his hand and dropped a velvet bag of coins into it. "Thank you, but I have my own vaults."

Facing Marcus again, she tapped the book to his chest, and chirped. "Thank you for the book, Mr. Flint. I'll think of you while I read it."

With her business concluded, she faced Narcissa. "Thank you for the tea and wonderful conversation. I hope to see you again soon. Good bye, Mr. Malfoy. Ladies. Gentlemen."

She walked out of Manor with hips swaying, shoulders squared, chin up and click clacking heels.

All eyes were on Marcus' smiling face.

 


	3. Dessert first

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Hermione sighed and let her eyes continue to scan the classifieds; first a place to live then a job.

Her mind briefly remembered Narcissa Malfoy mentioning that Lucius had properties. Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about Lucius. It was troubling; this new day in age.

Deciding that action was better than sitting and doing nothing, Hermione pulled a quill and small parchment from her purse.

A day later, Hermione was sitting with Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy on the patio of their large estate, looking at properties, which were scattered across the table, held in place with paper weights to combat the light breeze.

They were talking about each property, what Hermione wanted and how she came to the decision to find a place of her own.

"It was always the plan; to have a home I could call mine, but it progressed quicker than expected."

It had been quick work for Lucius to jot down Hermione's interests. He liked that she knew what she wanted and what her budget was. He was impressed that she wanted to be able to do a little work to the home herself, though he would recommend a good construction company. Or maybe not, Marcus Flint owned a construction company. Lucius was certain the large lad would do the work himself if it meant spending additional time with the Granger girl.

"I'm certain I can find you what you want, however I am concerned about your budget."

Hermione nodded and bit her lower lip. "I still have the land title that came with the Order of Merlin, and I've saved some over the years. I didn't really expect to feel the need to buy so soon, but…"

"But?" Draco asked.

She really didn't know if she should tell them, but she didn't have anyone to listen to her whing. "I can't stay at the Burrow any longer. I love the Weasleys, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but I can't breathe and I keep thinking that one mishap of magic and the whole house will come tumbling down around us. Mrs. Weasley's style is so… eclectic-"

"That's a nice way to put it," Lucius interrupted.

"Lucius!" Narcissa chided.

Hermione giggled then continued. "Plus Ron… I need somewhere to call my own."

Pausing for a moment to envision her own library, she continued, "Maybe we can find a home that needs a lot of work. Fixer uppers are cheaper aren't they?" she asked, nearly pleading with Lucius.

He looked at her with a serious expression. "They are a lot of work and can be more expensive over time. Frustration and anxiety at unfinished work and the constant surprises that occur does not make for a comfortable life, Hermione." It was the first time he had used her given name. It felt familiar and friendly; she smiled at him.

Lucius needed time to think.

"Allow me to take another look. Let's plan to meet here this time in three days. Are you free then?"

She nodded. But her expression and presentation was off.

"Hermione, would you be opposed to staying here until you find a suitable alternate arrangement? We have a guest house in the back. It isn't attached to the main building."

All Hermione wanted to do was run into Narcissa's arms and thank her, but she refrained. Her eyes shifted to Lucius, who looked fine with his wife's offer then she looked at Draco. He looked extremely pleased.

Once again her thought processes were interrupted by noise in the foyer. Three wizards came striding through to the patio to stand near Draco. All greeted with smiles and general handsome-ness. It was disturbing the way that they eyed her with such …desire.

It'd only been a few days, and she could honestly say that she had never felt so flattered.

"May I have the evening to think it over?" She didn't want to sound ungrateful, but it was a bit abrupt.

Narcissa smiled with understanding. "Of course, dear. I'll give you this Floo code. If you want to come back tonight, you're welcome to. If not, that's fine as well."

Hermione walked to the beautiful blonde and took grasped her hands. "Thank you."

Narcissa smiled. "You're welcome."

"Will you be returning to the Burrow?" Lucius asked, curious.

"Not at the moment," Adrian answered for her.

Hermione huffed. "Yes."

Blaise stepped forward. "Will you have dinner with us, Tesoro?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest then unfolded them; shifted from one foot to the other and pursed her lips. Her thin lips gave way to her nibbling on her lower lip.

"Hermione love, stop fidgeting and come to dinner. It'll be fun," Marcus admonished, with his elbow out for her to take.

"Okay." _But only because you called me love_ , she added in her mind. _And because I want to feel those muscled tree trunks you call arms._

Adrian grunted with humor. Hermione's thoughts were written all over her face.

Once they were gone, Narcissa turned to Lucius. "Do you think it's possible?"

Knowing what his wife wanted, but needing to hear her confirm it, he asked, "Do I think what's possible?"

Narcissa huffed. "Don't be coy, Lucius. You know she would make a wonderful addition to our family. Grandchildren. Grand _daughter_ …" she teased.

Lucius had wanted a daughter more than anything after Draco was born, but they had tried and tried, and weren't able to carry a baby to term. Narcissa had had four miscarriages and one stillbirth. Her emotional state could not withstand another crushing disappointment, so they had stopped trying.

When Lucius thought about what Narcissa said, his heart leapt with hope. He promptly squashed it and cleared his throat.

The arm around his wife tightened, but he didn't say anything.

oOo

Hermione smoothed invisible wrinkles from her dress once again, and she was about the run her fingers through her hair, but Blaise took one of her small hands in his and Marcus took the other. The large wizard leaned to the side towards her and said, "Stop fidgeting, Granger, you look good. Tasty."

These men seemed to be obsessed with food, and she was the experimental new cuisine.

They turned down an alley and stopped at an ornate door. Adrian knocked twice and the door opened.

Hermione gasped and looked at both Blaise and Marcus. "I feel like I'm about to be taught the secret handshake!" she whispered excitedly.

Draco, standing behind her, snorted. "Act natural," he advised, chuckling at her rolling onto her tip toes and back again. He splayed his hands over her hips to calm her jittery movement.

"Adrian Pucey, with Marcus Flint, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger."

The man at the door was nodding and penning the names on the list, but he paused at the last name. Adrian repeated it with a stern voice. "And Hermione Granger."

"Yes, Mr. Pucey. I'll have a table straight away."

Hermione tried not to let little things like that bother her. It took time for people to change their views, but it still stung. She felt a Marcus' warm hand placed soothingly against her back. His fingers made scratchy movements and rubbed comfortingly as they waited.

Blaise's thumb was rubbing circles on the inside of her wrist and all three were standing very near her. She appreciated their concern. Even Adrian; he wasn't touching her nor was he even looking at her, but the anger was radiating off of him and she found a certain pleasure in his anger; that it was for her.

The door opened suddenly; a different man greeting them. A smile lit his face as he looked directly at Hermione. "Miss Granger, I just had to come see for myself that it was really The Hermione Granger waiting to dine at our humble restaurant. Please come in and I apologize for the wait."

Almost crushingly relieved, Hermione nodded, smiled and stepped forward.

oOo

They sat down at a round table large enough to fit them all comfortably. A menu was placed in her hands by the waiter, and with a promise to return in a few moments, he bowed and left.

Hermione, as was her habit, looked at the desserts first. They all appealed to her sweet tooth, so she asked for an opinion. "Have you lot had dessert here?"

When silence returned her question, she looked up from her menu to see that they were staring at her curiously. "What?" she asked.

Draco smiled and then answered. "Why are you looking at dessert? You haven't had dinner yet."

Hermione, not one to be dissuaded, quirked her eyebrow and set to scold. "You haven't answered my question, Draco."

Draco snorted. "No."

Hermione's eyes travelled to the other pairs, each met with shaking heads. Four wizards and none of them had had dessert here.

She closed her menu and said, "Well, no time like the present. Pick one then and we'll each try it," she decided for them. Not waiting for concurrence, she lifted her chin to beckon the waiter, and ordered hers first. Looking expectantly at the others, Blaise stuttered through his order of banana cream pie; Marcus ordered chocolate lava cake, Draco went with lemon meringue pie and after Adrian frowned at the impossible situation, he ordered chocolate chip cookies with ice cream.

Hermione had seen the scandalized expression Adrian wore at first, but was proud of him for going with the flow. She even went so far as to tease him a bit. "Don't be such a fuddy duddy, Mr. Pucey, it's only dessert."

"I know that," he snapped, but then smirked. He liked her. She was different, but still… His mother never let him have dessert first, and once he was of age, proper course order was ingrained. He was still a bit confused at her; clearly Muggle etiquette differed from magical. The next sentence out of his mouth would forever haunt him and if he, twenty years from now, could step back in time to stop himself, he would.

Hermione was still watching him; waiting.

"I didn't think you would have dessert; you know, watching your figure and all that… I mean-"

"Wait. Did you just call me fat?" she asked, wanting to laugh, but showing a sterner expression. The Mighty Ladies Man, Adrian Pucey just crashed and burned, and she was going to exploit it. By the looks of his friends, they couldn't believe that that just came out of his mouth.

"What? No! No, no, no!" Adrian was shaking his head quite furiously. "That's not at all what I meant. Absolutely not!"

"That's what it sounded like to me," Hermione quipped.

Draco caught the evil gleam in her eye and smirked. _The little she-devil_ , he thought.

The desserts came at that point and Adrian was still shaking his head then decided it would be best if he explained his logic. "I just… I mean, having dessert first is no big deal, but I was just thinking that Muggle manners-" Hermione quirked an eyebrow, Adrian backtracked. "Not manners, wrong word, I mean …er, I mean practice. Yes, that's it: Muggle practice was quite different from Magical." He was nodding now.

The corner of Hermione's lip twitched. She took a fork and sliced through her dessert. She licked her lips and slowly opened her mouth, moaning at its rich taste.

When she opened her eyes, the wizards at the table were watching her; entranced. All eyes were glued to her lips. She decided to throw them a bone and licked her lips – just a little.

"My mum rarely let me have dessert and never before a meal. It was considered unladylike to even request dessert. But I'm no longer a child, and the war taught me to live – break rules, enjoy life!" she exclaimed, with a wink and a smile. "So, here we are, eating dessert first. Isn't it exciting?" There was a conspiratorial tone to her voice, making the men smile.

Adrian nodded. "Yes, we were not allowed dessert either." Before he could say more, Hermione interrupted again, "See, not so different."

Blaise couldn't take it anymore and chuckled, tucking into his dessert.

Throughout dinner, really dessert with drinks, they talked and laughed and shared their desserts. Each man enjoying himself so much he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so frequently in one sitting. Each knew what was different, why they were having such a good time.

Hermione was having a blast. And with some trepidation, she found herself attracted each wizard. She found this mildly disturbing and promptly put it out of her mind. Her reverie was interrupted when Marcus held a bite of his dessert for her to sample. Hermione smiled and opened her mouth for him to feed her.

"Delicious!" she exclaimed then became pensive. This was strange.

"What are you thinking?" Draco asked.

The question disquieted her. She thought better of being completely honest. "I was thinking how much fun I was having, and it was nice to be in such great company."

"So you like us then, huh Granger?" Blaise asked.

Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "Perhaps a bit."

Adrian snorted, and Hermione's head snapped in his direction.

He wore a smug expression, and said, "Oh, I think you like us more than just a bit, Hermione."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, and flopped back in her seat. "No."

Nodding to the server, she signed a bank note – enough to cover all the desserts and drinks, then stood and fought a smile when all of them shot up to stand with her. "Gentlemen, it's been a lovely evening. Have a good night."

They watched her walk away with swaying hips and squared shoulders then shifted focus on a sufficiently chuffed Adrian Pucey.

 

 


	4. The Plan

Disclaimer: I own nothing

With a cheerful sigh of relief at finally being done, Hermione flopped backward on the feathery bed, landing with a whomp sound as the air was pushed in other directions.

Waving her arms and legs back and forth in the motion of making snow angels on her comforter, she giggled to herself. This was heaven. Especially when compared to the rickety room and cardboard cot she had been sleeping on at the Weasley's.

She stopped for a moment, listening to the birds sing outside. Such a difference from the sounds of the Weasley home settling constantly, or the grunts from one of the Weasley children wanking in the loo, to include the youngest Weasley! No, Hermione would not miss that.

Narcissa had set her up in a small, and by small she meant huge, cottage. Hermione's new home was a traditional looking Scottish cottage on the outside and a modern multi-level flat on the inside. It had charm and functionality and space. Hermione had fallen in love with it on sight. She finally had a place to store her beloved books, scrolls, and shoes and purses.

Lucius, knowingly, had conceded to a monthly rent that Hermione could more than afford. However, Hermione was certain that Narcissa and he would have let her stay free, but her conscious would just not allow that. She would earn her keep.

Lucius had sat Hermione down after days of mapping out different ways for her to own a home, but the bottom line was that she needed to save a bit more and wait for the right opportunity. Post conversation, the Malfoys had offered her the cottage – on a temporary basis. No one had defined what temporary meant exactly and Hermione didn't press the issue. Hermione figured that if at any time she felt that she'd over-stayed her welcome, she would leave. It was as simple as that.

And so without preamble, Hermione had paid first and last month's rent then moved in. The last word from Narcissa was that she could stay for as long as she wanted. There was one condition, to which Hermione had agreed to immediately, that she dine with the Malfoy's once per week.

Hermione looked around again and marveled at the long, sheer drapery that hung around the open French doors waving with the light breeze. It was so pretty, she thought.

Narcissa had helped her with a few Décor spells, enabling Hermione to alter the cottages look to fit her personality. The bedroom was now colored in creams and golds and chocolates, and she couldn't be more pleased.

Rolling over and mentally checking a box off her list, she moved on to the second item: _Find a job_.

**oOo**

Once again taking advantage of the warmer than usual weather, Hermione sat at an outside table at a café, ticking off items on her CV.

She didn't have much in the way of experience. She had a double degree: Journalism and Spell Creation. Hermione was skilled in potions as well, but she didn't think she had that creative swing that Master Potioneers had, nor did she believe that she could live with being a Transfigurations Mistress and not get bored. She loved books and words and scrolls and ink, while also being completely taken with the idea of magic and the new ways in which it could be used.

Hermione's University career summed up her professional list. The rest was Hogwarts and the war. Unless she was planning on joining the army, training to be a Healer or teaching dueling, her time in the war would not serve her professionally.

She had a reputation of being a swot, which, while not always a good thing, was true. And judging by the articles in the media, she was an unsympathetic character. Hermione believed it was because she was independent, strong and out-spoken. People didn't see her as the proverbial damsel-in-distress. That was okay with her most of the time, but Hermione recognized her need for softer attention sometimes: a kind word, someone attempting to save her… Even if it was just to offer to hold the books she'd just bought.

She smiled to herself. Maybe that was why she found herself thinking of Marcus, Adrian, Blaise and Draco over the last few days instead of focusing on other, more practical things. Although mildly over-bearing with their masculine superiority complexes, she found the feminine part of her liked it… a little.

"Hermione?"

Blinking out of her internal conversation, Hermione looked up and smiled. "Katesch. Tova. How are you today? Won't you join me?"

Katesch looked overjoyed at the possibility of sitting down, and Tova lifted her packages and set them on the small dais behind them. Both women sank into the chairs gracefully, and ordered tea from the server who had magically appeared out of nowhere.

Sipping their tea, the three women settled into easy conversation. Katesch and Tova had been out shopping and were looking for somewhere to take a break when they had spotted Hermione concentrating so diligently on the scroll in front of her.

"What are you marking then?" Katesch asked, leaning forward.

Hermione flopped back and tugged on her hair. "I need a job, and I don't have any discernible, marketable skills."

"Why you're a war heroine! Recipient of an Order of Merlin First Class! You could obtain employment anywhere that you wanted!" Katesch declared.

Tova nodded her head and added with a smile, "What do those Americans say? You could write your own ticket, Hermione."

Hermione smiled then sighed. "Easier said than done."

Tova tried another tack. "May I?" she asked, pulling at the parchment in front of Hermione.

Pushing it forward, Hermione nodded. Both witches read silently, hmmming and nodding, tilting their heads this way and that, then slid it back to her.

Hermione was dying. "Well?"

Not exactly agreeing with Hermione's assessment of having no professional skills, but not completely disagreeing either, Katesch spoke first. "What do you love?"

"Pardon?"

"What in life makes you happy?" Tova restated.

Blinking at the witches in front of her, Hermione second guessed allowing them to assess her resume. The expression on Hermione's face made Tova laugh.

The laugh transformed her face from rather stern looking to pretty and light-hearted. Hermione saw Marcus in that smile, and smiled in return, answering the question. "I love books, I love the written word. I love writing. I love fashion. I love shoes."

Hermione stopped when she realized both women were smiling joyously at her. It was a bit unnerving. "What?"

"Oh Hermione, the Fates are conspiring in our favor!" Katesch twittered as she scribbled a quick note then called her owl, sending it away with a treat. Hermione sat in confusion as both witches appraised her silently. It was like being watched by two Cheshire Cats!

The owl returned with a hoot followed by Tova standing and waving. Hermione turned and saw a smiling Narcissa Malfoy and a prim looking Elizabeth Pucey.

The women greeted each other, sat, and ordered tea. No one spoke of how the Fates were conspiring or why Katesch called Narcissa and Elizabeth or how any of this had anything to do with Hermione and her finding a job!

After what seemed like an eternity, for Hermione at least, Elizabeth finally, _finally_ shared with Hermione 'The Plan'.

**OoO**

Hermione practically skipped up the walk way to her cottage. She could not believe her fortunate circumstances.

It wasn't exactly something she would have ever thought she'd be doing as a career, but she loved the idea.

Running up the stairs to her bedroom, after grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass, she flung open the French doors to view the beautiful pinks and reds of the sunset while she took a luxurious soak in her tub.

As she sank down in the bubbles, she took a sip and inhaled. Life was good, she thought, happily. She let her mind drift to what she thought her life would look like in a few months, years…

_Hermione sat at her large desk with the wall-sized window behind it. The sun was out and the owls were flying by, carrying parchments and packages for people. She had an advanced version of Wizarding Wireless for business, and was participating in a meeting for the ten-year anniversary of MODE Magazine for witches. MODE was hosting Fashion Week and sponsoring conferences with that year’s most successful business witches and Hermione was running the whole show._

Hermione's mind drifted from her hopeful professional success to the men currently flirting with her. She wasn’t certain it was pursuit, but it definitely fell under heavy flirting.

Draining her glass, her mind continued to wonder through the fields of emotions, attractions, hands – she was a hands witch- and all-night-long kisses. As her brain formulated blurred faces into the recognizable figures of Marcus and Blaise, her fingers started to slide slowly across her collarbone; her mental picture replacing those fingers with Blaise's lips; fingertips dancing at the ball of her shoulder only to dip down to circle her nipple, bringing it to a peak even in the warm water. After plucking the hardened nub once more, she palmed her flat, wet stomach and let her fingers skitter to her mons then they pealed apart her lips just as Marcus pushed her knees to touch opposite sides of the tub.

It didn't take long for Marcus' tongue to bring her to climax. A slight pinch to her clit then a circle around; two fingers inserted and back up for another pinch had her arching and sighing with release.

When Hermione opened her eyes, it was dark out and she was alone. She stood and dried off, slipping on a pretty purple silk night dress chemise. Feeling a shiver as someone or something breached her wards, she panicked a bit and ran downstairs with her wand ready, and flung open the door.

What she saw stopped her cold, erasing all of the remaining languid feelings from her… relaxing bath a few moments ago. Marcus, Blaise and Draco stood there drinking her in.

Her nipples hardened and her belly dropped. Hermione could feel the heat between her legs making her curve her knee into the other. She cleared her throat and felt her cheeks burn. She was trying to act natural, but she just couldn't pass it off.

Someone growled.

Marcus snapped out of his trance first. His eyes widened and he turned around so that his back was to her. "Sorry, Hermione. We wanted to… ah… apologize for dinner the other night." The other two followed suit and turned around.

Draco dropped his head as if he were in pain. Hermione frowned and felt concern for him. Maybe they thought she really was cross at them. Damn those books on how to flirt! She'd never read another word! Just then an insecurity bug bit her. Maybe she wasn't doing it right. Hermione swallowed. She would think on it and then go see her friend, with whom she consulted on all things men.

Hermione stepped forward, intending to reach out to let them know she wasn't cross, But just as she moved, Draco turned. His eyes roamed her form. She could feel the intensity of his gaze and retreated.

Maybe one more try wouldn't hurt, she thought with a mental smile.

Relaxing a bit and squaring her shoulders, she shifted her focus to Marcus, effectively looking like she was ignoring Draco. "There's no need to apologize, Marcus. It wasn't your faux pas after all. It was-"

A pop of Apparition interrupted her response. It was Adrian and the closer he got the stormier his expression. When he reached the door, he blew up. "You're wearing next to nothing, witch! Someone could see you! Clothes! Now!" He demanded, pointing up the stairs.

She swore she heard both a groan from Draco and a chuckle from Blaise.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_“I am Adrian Pucey._

_Adrian. Woolard. Pucey._

_My family founded the town of Pesei in Berkshire County in 1086! My 110x great uncle Adam de Pesy, was recognized in the ‘Feet of the Fines’ of Berkshire in 1220, during the reign of King Henry 111.”_

Adrian continued to pace and talk to himself. He’d been at it for two days. The elves, each popping in arbitrarily to check on the normally composed and quiet wizard. They were clearly unnerved by his uncertain and seemingly unstable manner; none knew what to do. At one point the wizard had stopped convincing himself of his worthiness and familial value and looked around to see seven trays of various snack items and cooled pots of tea. The only recourse for the devoted elves was to feed him into stoicism. Adrian barked a laugh and reassured them of his sanity and that he would not be needing any more tea and snacks.

Adrian stopped pacing and plopped down on his favorite chair just as his mother entered the hall. She handed the items she held over to the waiting house elf and gracefully strolled into the library where her only son and heir to both the Pucey vaults and the Fawley (her family name) sat scowling.

With a flourish and grace only Elizabeth could pull off, she sat, settled and took tea in one fluid movement. “Child, do stop frowning. It is unbecoming. Now, how was your day?”

Adrian could tell his mother was up to something. She had an excited glow about her. He shook his head. “Uneventful.”

Ladies did not pry or volunteer information to wizards, whether it was to her son or not, so she waited.   She knew he would talk. While waiting, she sipped her tea, bit into a crumpet, looked out the window to the birds chirping and tried not to throw a cuppa at the grandfather clock ticking and tocking in its rather peculiar rhythm. It drove her batty on a good day. Her father-in-law gave it to her at her wedding. She was now certain it was chosen as the perfect gift so that he would not have to listen to it for one tick or tock more.

Elizabeth almost gave up and left her son to his machinations, but just as she took the last sip of tea, he spoke. “I’ve offended Hermione, mum.”

Elizabeth’s heart squeezed just a bit. Her son didn’t call her ‘mum’ unless something was weighing heavily on his mind. And Hermione was a very intriguing prospect for a future daughter-in-law. It wouldn’t do for her son to offend the illustrious witch. Adrian needed his mum’s help; and help him she would. “How so?”

Adrian looked at his mum and sighed. “I have committed one folly after another with her. The last was at dinner the other evening. Mum, she urged, nay _goaded_ , us into having desserts first. I just… I didn’t mean to challenge her so ardently. But having dessert first was contrary to how we were taught. You know?” Adrian huffed and shook his head.

Elizabeth fought the urge to laugh. Her son was so proper. It was how they were all raised; with tradition and order of the things. She couldn’t blame his rigidity, but she could see the humor in it.

“How did you react?” she asked almost fearful of the answer.

“I questioned her wanting dessert at all. Most witches are worried for their figure-“

“Please tell me that you did not actually _say_ that.”

Adrian’s whole body deflated and he nodded his head. “I did.”

Elizabeth gasped, appalled. Adrian quickly added, “I corrected immediately, but then tripped once more in my correction, stating that it must be a difference in Muggle vs Wizarding manners!”

At this point, Elizabeth had her hand over her heart and she was shaking her head back and forth. She could not believe that _her_ son; her poised, debonair, normally articulate son committed such an awful, and entirely preventable, social blunder.

“You apologized, yes?” she asked, hopeful.

“I did not have an opportunity, because once we had desserts and drinks and laughed and talked and had the one of the finest evenings, I insulted her again. In my defense, I was tearing the mickey. However, it came out much more arrogant than intended.” He seemed to retract back into remembering the evening and didn’t elaborate, but that was not acceptable to Elizabeth.

“Well?” she barked, startling Adrian and causing him to sputter.

“She-she… She told us what a good time she was having and Zabini teased her about how she liked us. Hermione smirked and shrugged and said ‘maybe’ or some such and I said, in all of my infinite wisdom, ‘ _Oh, I think you like us more than a little, ha ha ha._ ’ And she stood, paid for _everything_ then left.”

“Oh Adrian.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m a cad.” He was at a complete and total loss.

Elizabeth knew that Adrian must apologize. Her emotion leaned towards a gift of some kind, but Adrian read her mind and shook his head. “This witch is different, mother. She cannot be plied with shiny baubles and cheap sentiment.”

Elizabeth took in a deep breath. The witch _was_ different. She needed some insight as to the depth of her son’s feelings for Hermione Granger and his intentions towards her.   Again reading his mother’s mind, he answered before she asked. “I like her. A lot. It is not a big leap for me to envision a life with her; a family.”

“And Marcus?” she inquired.

Adrian nodded. “Him too.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes quite loudly. “No, what are his intentions towards Hermione?” She stopped for a moment, understanding dawning. “You would consider a Triad?”

Adrian smirked. “I would consider more than that. But back to the matter at hand. This family that I so easily speak of and in which you fantasize your grandchildren cannot come true if she hates me!”

“You must act. Which dessert did she have at the restaurant?”

He thought back. “Cheesecake, with fresh strawberries.”

“Go to Sweet Spells Cakery and pick up cheesecake and strawberries. Then you knock on Hermione’s door and offer her cheesy tidings and your most heartfelt apologies.”

Elizabeth was about to go on, but Marcus, Draco and Blaise entered in a raucous. They all greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and turned to Adrian. “You need to apologize for your completely entertaining, but horrid gaffe,” Blaise told him. Draco nodded in agreement.

Marcus huffed then said, “Let’s go.”

“What? Now? It’s dark out!” Adrian cried.

Draco nodded. “Well spotted. It’s dark out every night, Lord Obvious. But there is no time like the present to apologize.”

Blaise concurred. “Right, mate. We have let you wallow in self-pity for long enough.”

“I have to get a cheese cake,” Adrian told them as he was being man-handled to the foyer.

“You have to give an apology. Sorry first, cheesecake later.” Marcus said, with conviction. He wanted Hermione; he knew that. He wanted a wife in her, a family, a lover; everything with her. But he knew he couldn’t force it and he would have a better chance at keeping her in his life if Adrian stopped putting his foot in his mouth.

Marcus, Blaise, and Draco Apparated to Hermione’s door before Adrian arrived.

**OoO**

They all walked in the door to Pucey’s estate and plopped down into cushy chairs. A house elf popped in, turned on a few lamps and lit the fireplace.

“I can’t believe that shit just happened,” Blaise said, laughing.

Draco’s eyes were drawn to the crackling flames in the fireplace as he remembered Hermione’s facial metamorphosis; shock at Pucey’s order, confusion as to his seriousness of said order, slow irritation then full on anger at his audacity. Her reaction was priceless and predictable. The regal blond looked up from the fire to watch his mate limp to the bar for a tumbler of whiskey. Adrian poured two fingers and downed the liquid in one gulp.

“Oi! You’ve got guests!” Blaise scolded, wanting some of what Adrian was having.

“Steady on! I’m getting to you, mate,” Pucey told the room as he lifted three more tumblers from their resting places.

Marcus hadn’t said a word since Hermione had hexed Pucey and threatened the rest of them then slammed the door. He closed his eyes and brought up the vision of her as she had opened the door in the first place. The clean scent of her had wafted out as the door opened and caressed his skin. The memory made his nostrils flare.  

Her cheeks had been slightly flushed. Marcus concluded that she had taken a rather warm bath. However, she also seemed a bit out of breath… He let his mind conjure all sorts of images to that effect; pale legs spread and waiting for him, the earthy smell of aroused witch, dusky nipples… He shifted in the seat. He wanted her, but if Pucey continued down this path, Marcus would maim the wizard permanently! He was jarred out of his reverie with an offer of liquor by Adrian.

“Sorry mate,” Adrian said to Marcus.

Marcus took a long swallow and nodded. “I don’t know how we’ll fix this.”

Blaise and Draco nodded in agreement. They didn’t know either.

**oOo**

Hermione snorted into her tea cup as she, once more, envisioned the shock on Adrian’s face when she had hexed him right on his bum, and the frightened look and quick steps in retreat the others had taken in response. “Serves them right,” she murmured to herself.

She had been completely taken aback both by their arrival and Adrian’s rather possessive words. It was strange that it had made her feel warm inside. The other gentlemen present had all looked at her as if she were their answer to all that was holy. That also made her feel a fluttering of her heart. However, she felt like if she let them, no matter how much she wanted or liked it, they would dominate her and that was not something her feminist mind would allow. Right now, she needed some advice. It was a little later than comfortable to call upon someone, but it was urgent. Besides, Hermione consulted with her on all things male.

“Minnie?” she called from her Floo. After a moment, the ashy representation of Minerva McGonagall appeared. “Good evening, Miss Granger. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “So formal, Minnie? You sound like Professor Snape.”

Minnie turned her head to look behind her and then back to Hermione. “Yes… well…”

“He’s there with you? Are you- Are you- on a date?”

“A date, Miss Granger, sounds pubescent. We are mature adults. We are shagging,” Severus corrected.

“Severus!” Minerva gasped.

Hermione snickered then leaned in and whispered. “Is he pissed?”

“I can hear you, Miss Granger. You do understand the basic magical science behind Floo calls, yes?”

His words were a bit slurred, but not so much to lose their authoritative tone.

Hermione heard a slight commotion and then Minerva was back in front. “What did you need, dear?”

Knowing her friend was on a – _shagging Professor Snape_ , Hermione summarized the situation and recent actions as briefly as she could manage.

“I see,” Minnie responded. Severus said something in the background and Minerva nodded.

“Hermione, you must set some ground rules. If they intend on courting you, they must follow the guidelines set by tradition. Severus has a book you can reference. He will Owl it to you later tonight.”

Hermione nodded. “Thank you, Minnie. I’ll leave you to it then. Good night, Professor Snape,” she called and heard some mumbled response before Minnie closed her floo.

As Hermione sat and processed the advice offered, she wondered to herself, “When do I set these rules?” She took a deep breath and came to a conclusion. _No time like the present_.

She got dressed, fixed her hair and made her way to the foyer. She just knew they were either all at Pucey’s or she would end up visiting each home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  



	6. Friends

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hermione walked down the cobble stone path to the door. She was wearing a cobalt blue one piece shorts-jumper, with a sleek, shiny gold belt around her narrow waist. The sleeves and shorts were cuffed, giving the outfit a more formal feel. Her shoes were a pair of cognac colored peep-toe ankle booties, and she had twisted her hair up into a messy bun and walked out the door. She was confident that confronting them was the absolute right thing to do, but while she got dressed, she mentally prepared her “speech”.

The weather was light and warm, with just a hint of a cooler breeze ruffling tendrils of her hair. There were dark skies alight with bright stars and a moon so round and so big, she could see the craters marking the surface. It made her walk unhindered as she was able to clearly see the path ahead, leading to the large, elegant wood door.

Right as she lifted her hand to knock on the door, it opened. “Yes, Miss?” The house elf said as it bowed.

“Hello. Adrian Pucey, please? I am Hermione Granger.” At the mention of her name, the elf’s head shot up and it stepped back. Hermione interpreted the elf’s reaction as being conflicted with the fear of being freed and its obligation to receive guests.

Hermione quickly assuaged his fear. “I do not have any articles of clothing to offer you, Mr. ..?” She’d meant to say it kindly, but it came out a bit rushed, with an air of frustration. She still held the rather onerous reputation from SPEW during her Hogwarts years. It was irritating at times.

“Poldark, Miss.”

Hermione nodded. “I am not here to free you, Mr. Poldark. No need to worry.”

The house elf looked dubiously up at her and she was not certain that she read his expression correctly. In the next moment, she was put to rights, as it were.

Seemingly weighing his words carefully, Poldark spoke slowly so as not to offend the famous Muggleborn witch. “It is not the privilege of random witches and wizards to free house elves from their bonds to a family. It is only the right of the House in which the elves serve,” he explained.

Hermione’s eyebrows lifted to her forehead. “Well that explains a lot,” she replied and hoped that he would continue speaking to her, however brief.

“I regard you as someone quite persistent, as do most of the elven community, who remember your efforts to see us independent. There is much that you did not and do not know of eleven magic and our traditions.” The last was said with an air of finality, and he still looked as if he did not trust her completely. “Follow me, please.”

It only took her a second to gather herself and file their conversation away for another time. Right now, she had a job to do.

Hermione entered the large foyer gingerly, trying to not make a cacophony of noise with her heeled shoes. The hard scape of the flooring seemed to echo with these shoes wherever she walked, but she didn’t want to look like a newborn calf either, so she squared her shoulders and followed behind the elf, regardless of the echoing sounds of her heels.  

Upon hearing the murmuring of deep voices as she approached, she thought about pausing in the doorway to eavesdrop, then thought better of it. Nothing good ever came from snooping. She followed the elf into a sitting room and watched as knowledge of her presence dawned on each wizard. Poldark waited until each wizard stood then made the introduction.

“Miss Hermione Granger, gentle wizards.”

Hermione quirked her eye brow and smirked as she watched the elf walk away with his head held high.

When she returned attention back to the wizards, they were still standing and were appraising her with the strangest of expressions. Draco and Marcus were both frowning at her in confusion. Adrian looked like he would fall at her feet at any moment to beg forgiveness and Blaise was smirking like he knew she would seek them out. She suspected that the reason behind her arrival would not be consistent with his reasoning.

Whatever they were thinking, she would wait until they returned to themselves and asked her to sit or some other pleasantry. She was a lady after all and these were pureblood wizards. Manners were practically encoded into their DNA. Hermione inhaled and quietly cleared her throat. Seconds went by, and she thought that she could actually feel Blaise and Marcus’ gaze roam over her skin. She was about to roll her eyes, but was saved by Elizabeth strolling in and stopping abruptly.

“Hermione?” she asked, confused for a moment. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

Hermione smiled and leaned into the hug Elizabeth offered, with side to side air kisses. The elder witch pulled the younger to the settee to sit. “Did Adrian request tea?” She asked Hermione, but looked at the men still dumb struck. It was then that Adrian snapped out of whatever trance he was in and shook his head. “No, mother. I’m uncertain what came over me. Please forgive my rude behavior, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded and Marcus called for tea.

“What brings you, Miss Granger?” It was Elizabeth.

Hermione pursed her lips, looked down in her lap and then back up to Elizabeth. “I felt like I needed to set some boundaries. I hope you can forgive the series of unannounced visits on my part lately.”

Elizabeth laughed and Hermione thought it was the loveliest sound she’d ever heard. “Well then I shall leave you to it!”

Elizabeth walked out with a giant smile on her face and a heart as hopeful as a rainbow’s message. This witch would set them straight and maybe she could look forward to a daughter in law and perhaps some grand babies.

OoO

Sipping her tea and hiding the smile that threatened to weaken her position, Hermione watched each wizard before setting her cuppa down and straightening her spine.

“You should know that I adore the attention that you have given me and I would like to thank you for making my return just that much brighter.”

She paused for effect. It worked, she knew it when Draco cleared his throat and said, “Buuuut?”

“But I am not a shiny new toy with which you can play at your leisure. I would appreciate your friendship,” she paused then and tilted her head in flattery as their expressions, however subtle, fell into disappointment, then added, “to start.”

They each nodded slowly; Adrian watched her with a keen eye, so she directed her next statement towards him. “You may not regard me as your possession nor do I need the unique criticism of a fatherly authoritative figure in my life, yes?” she urged.

Adrian took a slow breath and pursed his lips. “Yes,” he agreed.

After a moment, the group of wizards each came to their conclusion and the mood lifted from morose to resolve. Silently, mentally, each wizard promised himself that he would be the one for her, but first he must pull out in front of the rest, so that she may see what was as clear as the pert little nose on her face.

Draco flopped back in the grand armchair where he sitting. “I’ve never been friends with a girl before!” he declared.

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Pansy.” “She’s not a girl!” Marcus added, making the others chuff in humor.

Hermione lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow and stood. “Well, I am a witch, and I would like to get to know you as friends. So,” she paused a moment to gather her clutch, and set her cup and saucer on the tray, “Figure it out.”

Blaise stepped forward and held out his elbow. “Allow me to walk you to the door, milady.”

She giggled at his formality and placed a delicate hand on his arm. “Thank you, kind sir.” They stood for a moment smiling at each other then she turned and bowed her head slightly to the rest of them. “Have a lovely evening.”

When they reached the foyer, Blaise was about to speak, but was interrupted by Adrian. “Lunch tomorrow, Hermione?”

Though Hermione’s stomach flip flopped, she stepped back from Blaise and smiled in apology. “I’m sorry, Adrian, I’m busy.”

He was about to open his mouth to ask what could she be possibly doing that was more important than he was, but thought better of it. “The day after?”

“Busy.”

He harrumphed. This witch was going to make him both pay for his previous gaffes and chase her.   _Well_ , he thought, _challenge accepted!_

“The day after that then. Surely you can carve out a measly hour for lunch two days from now?”

Her eyes, sparkling with mischief, looked at the other wizards. “Perhaps. I’ll owl you. Good night.”

OoO

“You just left afterwards?” Minerva asked over tea the next day.

Hermione nodded, sipped her tea and pondered the entire situation.

“Lady Flint requested an interview with me a few weeks ago. She briefly described the magazine’s endeavor and wants to do a piece on, and I quote, ‘powerful and successful witches’. I agreed. It will be nice to have witches being favored for more than their sex appeal-“

Minerva McGonagall was interrupted by a deep voice laced with sarcasm. “There’s more?” Severus asked, walking into the office with a billow.

Hermione and Minnie pursed their lips in irritation then nodded in greeting. Minerva’s greeting was abrupt, but her eyes met his and Hermione noted there was a moment. She almost giggled with glee at their rather clinical romance. Both of them deserved the happy ending.

“Don’t be a misogynist, Professor.” Hermione scolded with humor. Though, with all of his support of her and rumors that he had been a very attentive male figure for the witches in Slytherin, she guessed that he was a bit of a closeted feminist.

“Miss Granger,” he greeted and set two books on the table next to the tray of tea for her. They were the books on courting rituals in pureblood society and expectations for witches.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You may call me Severus, since you know far too much about my – _comings_ ,” he said ‘comings’ while lewdly eying Minerva, “and goings.” The elder witch blushed and turned her eyes to her cup.

Hermione just shook her head in humor.

Snape invited himself to sit down across from the two and took the liberty to pour himself a cup of tea. “I hear you are making quite a splash upon your return. Ladies Nott, Rosier, Pucey and Malfoy are all twittering after you to act as senior editor for their magazine. Is this correct?”

Hermione was a little surprised that he knew as much as he did, and she also knew he’d never reveal his source of information. “Yes. I have agreed and to be honest, I am both flattered that they have included me and excited about the prospect.” Severus nodded in approval and Minerva smiled at her still-favorite student.

“They are all courting you, Miss Granger, it would be wise to read the fine print on both your contracts and adhere to the guidelines set in the books given to you today. They are playing for keeps,” Severus warned.

Hermione put her cup down. “Well that’s ominous, Professor- Severus – Sir. And please call me Hermione. You don’t think they would add a marriage clause in a work contract, do you?” She fairly shrieked. She liked the attention, but marriage was a bit of an escalation at this point.

“Stranger things have happened, and Severus is right. Just be aware, Hermione,” Minnie advised then went on to finish her tea and pour another, adding a dark splash from a cask hidden in her inner robes.

Severus huffed. “Already, Minnie?”

Minerva looked slightly affronted. “It is after 12 pm, Severus!”

He conceded the point and held out his cup for her to add a splash to his too.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**_Marcus_ **

Marcus laid awake, his mind cycling through his emotions and vision and life. He harrumphed and turned onto his side. The darkness did nothing to offer him any comfort. He just couldn’t figure it out. What was it about _her_ that made him want to please her? Why now?

He thought back to a couple years ago when his mum had asked if he had any prospects.   He had made a face and didn’t feel any sort of remorse at responding in a way that had her squaring her shoulders. He’d been slightly curt, but he knew that he hadn’t wanted to get married any time soon. He also knew that with the death of Voldemort, their traditions of marriage and courting were fading away. Marcus only felt a slight pressure to carry on his family name; and he suspected that the only reason his mum asked was because she wanted to hold her grandbaby then give the squalling infant back to him.

But now – _now_... Now he didn’t know how he felt. He _liked_ her. He liked her personality, her brains and what he remembered from her, her valiant and courageous spirit. She was fierce and loyal and he wanted that. Marcus realized that he wanted to take it further. He wanted to get to know her better.

He groaned and huffed in annoyance. This was not good. He knew it. She would be the end of him.

Damn that she had gone shopping the day he’d seen her. “Damn it to Hades, fucking Granger!”

**_Draco_ **

Draco lit up another cigarette then looked at it. Hermione probably didn’t like the smoke. He was about to toss it, but once she entered his mind and wrinkled her nose, he took a long hard rebellious drag then tossed it.

She wasn’t going to tell him what he could and could not do! He was a grown wizard! He slouched in defeat a moment later. Who was he kidding? He was ready to propose. In fact, had she asked him to marry her in the shoe store, he would have agreed right then and there! He had always wanted to get married. The very idea that you were not alone; you had a life partner, a companion, who you loved and who loved you was a very appealing concept to Draco. His parents were close and always presented a united front. Even his aunt Bella, who was mad as a hatter, was loyal to Rodolphus. She never spoke a bad word against him nor him against her.  

Draco wanted that and he knew Hermione was the witch he could trust to have his back whenever, wherever.

“Hermione fucking Granger! Who would have guessed?” he chirped to himself, putting out his cigarette and throwing away the remaining pack.

**_Blaise_ **

The music was pumping and the girls were dancing, though half-heartedly. He slowly spun his nearly empty glass in circles and zoned out while two naked witches humped and twirled around the poles. His eyes scanned the pale skin and glittering breasts of the girls and his mind flashed to Hermione. Her hair swinging, her hips moving seductively then his mental flashes of her skin faded into the two of them sitting in a cozy restaurant, laughing and debating and knowing each other. He got angry of a sudden and gritted his teeth, glaring at the two witches on stage.

Hermione had substance.

These witches, he thought viciously as he looked at the two surprised women, did not!

He threw down a coin; enough to cover the cost of the drink and nothing more then walked out.

His mind was still playing tricks on him when the cool night air hit him in the face and pictures of a girl in a white dress and babies, with his skin tone and namesake, and her wild hair.

Blaise growled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Fucking Granger!” he hissed.

**_Adrian_ **

The smoke in the air from the cigars was intoxicating and suffocating all at once, but Adrian paid it no mind. He focused on the shuffle of cards then dealt. It was a high stakes game in Muggle London. There was a 30,000 Galleon buy-in just to get a seat at the table. Adrian only knew these men as not-so-friendly acquaintances; Purebloods who the majority of were on the wrong side of the war, but were pardoned for one reason or another.

Adrian didn’t gamble like this often, but for some reason the feisty little smart-mouthed witch wouldn’t stop running through his mind. He had needed some way to refocus his attentions on something else. It was an epic failure.

He was vaguely aware that most of the wizards watched him keenly, but he was infamous for his stoicism and now that his mind was not even on the game, he knew that the others were irritated. He glanced at his cards then placed them face down on the blue felt. _Hermione_.

Would she care that occasionally he liked to play poker? He wondered if she knew how to play. He smirked at the thought of teaching her to play. They could play strip poker. He hoped that she was not a fast learner.

“Pucey!”

His eyes shot to the gentleman across from him. Dallas Corner. Michael Corner’s father. “Aye,” Pucey responded.

“Pay attention!” Dallas snapped. “Three cards.”

Pucey raised one eyebrow at the sharp tone and dealt three cards to the man.

The game was on after trades were made and Pucey’s thoughts found their way back to the beauty that currently held his attention.

He fought the urge to smile, queen of hearts. He just knew it was a sign. Lifting his head, and facing the table, “Call.”

There was groaning and audible discord as Adrian laid his hand on the table. “Royal Flush, gentlemen. Read ‘em and weep.”

Gathering his winnings, and smiling at the men in the room, he stood and nodded his good bye.

“Oi Pucey! Give us a chance to win back our Galleons!” Dallas again.

“No can do, Corner. I have a witch to woo.”

Two wizards chuffed in humor then went to deal another hand. Dallas looked to the wizard beside him, Jacoby Nott. “Who’s the witch?”

Jacoby had heard from his son that his mates were caught up in the Granger girl’s siren. “ _Granger_. Hermione Fucking Granger, mate.”

**_OoO_ **

Each continued to ponder the reasoning behind taking Hermione seriously. Why _this_ witch? Why _now_? But each came to the conclusion that the Fates were weaving a tangled web of folly and romance. They would go with it.

**_OoO_ **

Hermione tried not to stumble too obviously down the hill. She hadn’t planned on staying so long and she certainly hadn’t planned on drinking anything but tea, but once Minnie poured Severus some firewhiskey, she didn’t want to be left out.

As she crossed into the small village, and with a slow awareness came to realize that it was quite the happening place for it being this late. Hermione stood for a minute to observe the wizards and witches, walking to and fro. She blinked to clear her head and took a step. She was not expecting the dip in the pavement and as a result, her foot twisted, her knee buckled and like a baby giraffe using its legs for the very first time, she felt herself begin to topple over.

As her chest pitched forward, and her hips swayed to the left, she threw her hands up and yelped at the sudden downward spiral. Closing her eyes, she awkwardly and exaggeratedly leaned forward to catch herself before hitting the pavement, but what she felt were strong arms and a jerk up that righted her balance in one fell swoop. Her teeth clicked together as a result, but other than that, she was put to order.

Turning with a lop-sided tipsy smile, she went to thank the wizard who saved her.

Pretty brown eyes met the brilliant green of- “Harry?”

Harry looked at the small witch with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure who she was, but she knew him. “I-I’m sorry, who-“ In the time it took to speak those three little words, his mind flashed with visions of a younger, bushy haired friend who had saved his hide on more than one occasion. A friend that he had not kept in touch with. A friend with who he desperately longed to reconnect, but was unsure she would welcome him. “Hermione?”

With tears in her eyes, and a happy smile, she lunged forward once again into the strong arms of her best friend, or at least, used to be her best friend.

The two hugged under the lamp post, on the small street, amidst a growing crowd.

They heard whisperings of “Harry Potter and Hermione Granger together!”

As they pulled apart, knowing they needed to Apparate to somewhere a bit more secluded, they smiled at each other; their hands still held together bridging the space between them. He was looking down at her and her looking up at him, both wearing adoring expressions. And that’s when it happened: the flash of the camera.

**OoO**

##  _H2 O._

##  _(Harry & Hermione; OH my goodness, we love this couple!)_

##  _Is this the start of a beautiful romance?_

Subscribe today and keep abreast of the developing romance.

 

Draco threw down the paper, and silently grit his teeth. He looked at the other wizards and tapped his foot in irritation. “Well?” he snapped at them.

Blaise snorted. “Well what? You want Flint to go beat up Potter?” it was said dripping with sarcasm, but Draco entertained the idea anyway.

Adrian, being the voice of reason, offered his input. “They’ve been friends since first year. Perhaps she hasn’t seen him in a bit and they went out last night. It’s not like he’s her type.”

That should have been enough to calm the growing anxiety among the wizards, but it only sparked Draco’s temper. “Oh?” he looked pointedly at Adrian, Marcus and Blaise then motioned to himself. “And just what is her _type_ , Pucey?”

Though all of the wizards were taller than Potter, each was drastically different in physical appearance.

Pucey with his sandy, dark blond hair that he kept styled closely cut, with some length at the top to feather to the side. His eyes were green with gold flecks, and his skin was light, but with olive undertones. He almost never burned when out in the sun. His body was athletic, and slender, and he had very little body hair.

Marcus was broad-shouldered, and thick with bulging muscles and a hairy chest. He was not stocky and his body type was proportionate. His hair was black and cropped short, but it had a rather pronounced cow lick in the center of his forehead. The Flint family did indeed have troll in their line, but it was so far back that all he inherited was size, which witches loved. His eyes were dark as shadows and his skin was white, but not overly so.

Blaise was a beautiful wizard, tall and lithe with long muscles and defined muscles. His skin was chocolate and so smooth that witches tended to want to touch his face and chest. His hands were fit for modelling and his long fingers for piano playing. He had the lightest hazel eyes that felt more cat like than they did belonging to a wizard. Hermione had told him once, that his smile took her breath away.

Draco was pale and striking, still with his white blond hair that hung across his forehead and swung freely over his ears. His eyes pierced as a silver gray, which often had him squinting or wearing sunglasses in the sunlight as they were quite sensitive. He was tall and thin and graceful.

Not one wizard could confidently answer Draco’s question.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Harry sat across from a pretty and talkative witch at the Muggle restaurant. She had the most annoying sounding voice, and he was working very hard to look interested and not cringe every time she said his name. This was his fourth date this month, with four different witches, and as he sat _listening,_ he decided that it was his last. He didn’t know what to do any more. Harry was tired of being alone and tired of witches only wanting to be seen with _The_ Harry Potter.

Ron was no help; throwing women of all persuasions at him: Magical, Muggle, black, white, bisexual, pan sexual… Harry had not connected with any of them. It didn’t matter their wiles, at this point in his life, he just wanted someone who he could relate to, talk to; someone who he could call friend and lover. Though, he acknowledged that he’d met some interesting people; a few of which, he would remain friendly, but no one with whom he could see spending a future.

A banging on the table jarred him out of his thoughts, and he blinked at the irritation he saw on her face- _what was her name?_

“Yes. Sorry. What was it you said?” Harry recovered.

The nameless witch sniffed and fell back into her chair, looking at her date with suspicion.

“Awite, ‘Arry?” she asked with her cockney accent and nasal-high voice. It made ‘Arry want to raise an eyebrow like his Hermione used to. _His_ Hermione. Ha! That was a laugh, he thought.

“Yeh. Yeh. Just a bit buggered is all.” Harry paused then took in a deep breath. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, looking at the table, but not really seeing.

At this point, his date, whomever she was, was beat red and frowning. “All right?”

“NO!” she shouted and hit the table once more with her hands. “I’m not all right. I don’t fink you paid attention t’me all evenin’! Not much of a gentleman, you are, ‘Arry Potter!” As she stood, she looked around the room and shook her head.

“I was ‘opin’ for somefing more by you.” She sighed. “Maybe a real gentlemen. Ever’one says you are sweet n’ kind. Cor love a duck! You are not t’ose fings. Just some bloke on a power trip, like all dee utters!” Stifling a hiccup that was swiftly turning into disappointed tears, she stood, grabbed her purse and marched out with her head high.

Harry exhaled in relief. “Well I cocked that up well and good, didn’t I?” He wasn’t expecting an answer, but it came any way.

“Right you did, Potter, but she wasn’t the one for you anyway.”

Harry looked up to see Theo Nott and a beautiful witch on his arm, who looked disapproving at the scene that played out just moments before.

Harry dropped a bill on the table to pay for drinks (they hadn’t had dinner yet) and stood, coming face to face with Theo. “And you know this how?”

Theo patted the feminine hand in the crook of his arm. “I just do. But forgive me for being rude. Aria Selwyn meet Harry Potter. We attended Hogwarts together, not my House.”

The elegant witch dipped slightly in a modern curtsey and held out her hand for him to take. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter.”

“Ms. Selwyn, the pleasure is mine,” he returned and bent his face towards her hand, but didn’t kiss it. Aria was pleased at his manners and she fleetingly wondered what the other witch was alluding to when she accused Potter of not acting gentlemanly.

Standing straight, Harry looked at his colleague and nodded. “Nott, have a nice night.”

Theo smiled and nodded. “You do the same.” The two ridiculously good looking and graceful people walked away and Harry shook his head. Theo was always so vague and mysterious; it was annoying at the best of times.

OoO

Harry Apparated to the only place that made him feel at peace, Hogsmeade outside of Hogwarts. It was a warm night and Harry felt a sense of nostalgia that he hadn’t felt in some time. He reflected on his school days and his friends and Hermione. He felt badly about not staying in touch, but she had been so clear that they could not be anything but friends. That Ron would never understand. Harry had been hurt and angry at her rejection. He hadn’t even said good bye when she left. Lately, she had been on his mind and he felt like he needed to reach out to her. He needed to tell her what was on his mind; what was in his heart.

After the war, the Ministry had partnered with Hogwarts, and together, they had rebuilt Hogsmeade. It had a quaint and welcoming feel to it now, with gardens and trees and park benches to sit and admire the stars and moon, with a lover or dear friend. Harry strolled around the park, pausing at the koi pond and making kissing noises at the ducks. That was when he noticed the stumbling witch at the small bridged walk-over. He made his way to her just in time to catch her from falling. She smelled nice – Jasmine laced with whiskey. Harry smirked; he liked her already.

As he righted her position, he heard her teeth click in response. He meant to apologize for being so rough, but she was lighting up his life with a brilliant smile at the moment; his breath caught. She was a beauty. Cinnamon colored eyes and pink lips – “Harry?”

Bells went off somewhere in his mind. “I-I’m sorry, who-“

His eyes searched and recognition pounded down the doors in his brain. “Hermione?”

As they took in each other’s presence and as the moments passed, they, _she_ , forgave the silence and the distance. They heard the whispers and saw the flash, and silently, agreed to Apparate.

In a blink, they were gone, leaving speculation in the minds of those who witnessed the reunion.

**OoO**

Not sure why, but Harry landed them in the Forest of Dean, near the River Wye. Hermione, for all of her previous drunkenness, was now sober due to the strangling and nauseating sensation of an emotion-driven, side-long Apparition. Dropping to her knees on the river bank, she breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth, with Harry looking on in both pity and hope. Once she got her bearings, she dipped her hands in the cool water and splashed her face.

Harry walked a little closer to her small form. “All right, ‘Mione?”

She nodded, but didn’t look up just yet. “Yes, just give me a moment, okay Harry?”

“Okay,” he chirped.

If she meant that he should go somewhere else, the message didn’t convey or he ignored it, because a second later, he plopped down beside her to await her recovery.

A few minutes passed while the two friends listened to the sounds of nature calm them. Being there brought so many memories back to the fore front and Hermione found herself frowning as one image after another flashed in her mind’s eye. As if he had the ability to read her mind, Harry took her hand in his and gently squeezed. “We’ll stay clear of the Acromantula this time.”

Hermione looked at him and they both laughed. It was healing to be able to see humor in the chaos of the past.

Once quieted, they let the sounds of the rushing river soothe their nerves.

“I missed you, Hermione.” It was a whispered statement and said with so much feeling that it brought tears to Hermione’s eyes. Harry was fidgeting with blades of wet grass with one hand and the other was still holding hers.

“You didn’t even say good bye, Harry. You didn’t write me back. You took your friendship and everything we went through and left me.” She was shaking her head, but didn’t pull her hand from his.

“Give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you. Please Hermione. I need you in my life.”

Hermione huffed and abruptly stood. “You don’t _need_ me, Harry. You feel guilty for treating someone who was always loyal to you, badly.”

He twisted his neck to look up at her. She smiled at the angle. His body facing forward, and his head tilted and lifted, looking at her sideways. He wore a pleasantly irritated expression; one that said, _always cutting to the chase, Hermione_. And it was true, she had no time for fluff. …Well, not when Harry was involved in the fluff. _Perhaps if Marcus or Draco_ \- she stopped herself from that line of thinking. She reminded herself that she needed to be in the here and now, and that Harry was an entirely different animal.

Harry stood gracefully and dusted the grass of his trousers. He then stepped close to her and took both of her hands in his. He paused, letting his eyes trail the contours of her cherub lips and doe eyes, making a valiant effort to refrain from lingering on her rather shapely body. Green eyes met brown. “I heard once that you are supposed to compliment a smart lass on her beauty and a pretty lass on her sharp mind, but I’m at a loss here, Hermione. What do I do when I am in the presence of a woman who is both beautiful and brilliant?”

Hermione smiled, and lowered her head. She could feel the heat in her cheeks at the compliment.

Harry’s eyes never left her. He smiled at the pretty blush gradually spreading across her cheeks and neck.

Hermione took a deep breath and then cleared her throat. “Harry, I-“

She was interrupted by his lips upon hers; softly, tentatively asking for permission to continue kissing her.  She gave over to the warmth that spread throughout her body and stepped into him, gently opening her mouth to breathe him in.

OoO

Slamming the door and practically throwing her back into it, Hermione could not believe what just happened. She slid down, landing roughly on the ground, with a _whomp_ sound then giggling like a mad woman.

Once prostrate and trying desperately to catch her breath, she opened her eyes to see the up close and personal bright green cat eyes of her Kneazle. The cat moved closer, as if to inquire whether everything was alright and would he still continue to be fed on a regular basis. Hermione giggled again at the feel of his whiskers on her nose and the warm puffs of cat breath across her cheek.

“Yes, Wesley, everything is just fine.” She scratched between his ears, causing him to purr. She watched the pretty Kneazle flop down on his side near her, so she could rub his belly then attacked her fingers or daring to take liberties that he only meant to tease her with. She must have zoned out, because his sharp teeth made her pull back her hand.

He meowed quite loudly in protest and rolled on his back once more. “I need to think, Wesley, not play your little catch-me-if-you-can games. I just snogged the day lights out of Harry!” That confession earned her another meow. She continued the one-side conversation. “In a short time since my return, I have moved into the Malfoy’s cottage, been hired as an editor by four witches whom I have just come in acquaintance, am being courted by their sons, and got pissed with Severus and Mini. And now, I’ve snogged my dearest friend.” She looked at Wesley and made a face. He was busy licking his fur and ignoring her rant. She went on any way. “What am I to do?”

No response.

Just as she made to get up, her wards shifted and she heard a knock at the door.

Looking through the eye hole, she pulled back and opened up the door. “Ronald?”

He nodded and walked right in. His face was serious and his body language dire. “What’s the matter? Is everyone safe?”

He walked to her kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Yes!” he yelled from inside.

Standing up and chewing something he’d found, he sat on her couch. Hermione was still frowning and worried.

“Now that you’re back, I think you should date Harry.”

Nothing could have prepared her for this. “Come again?”

“Stop dickering with the Slytherin blokes and date Harry.”

Blinking with surprise, Hermione couldn’t find the words to either dissuade or agree with him, so she went to the door, opened it up and motioned for him to leave. He nodded. “It’s late. I know. But think on it, yeah?” He kissed her cheek and exited the flat. Hermione shook her head and went to bed. This must be all a dream, she thought.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing

IGLT 9

 _Today was the day_ , Hermione thought as she strolled along the sidewalk. The weather was beautiful; sunny, with a cooler breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees. She inhaled deeply and could smell the honeysuckle being carried in the gentle wind. She briefly promised herself that once she got a place of her own, she would plant honeysuckle bushes.

Hermione being Hermione, her mind immediately went to the logistics and academics of honeysuckle.

Her mind mapped out the plot of land she would have and where the boundaries would lay. _They would need to be along the fence line_ , she thought. She knew them to be quite invasive and she didn’t want other plant life to suffer at their vines. She made a mental note to send an Owl to Neville with an inquiry about honeysuckle.

Shaking her head and getting back to focusing on where she was going, Hermione picked up her pace, careful not to step on any cracks lest she take a tumble in her heels.

Feeling confident and excited about sitting down to go over the proposal that _The Ladies_ , as Hermione referred to them, put together as an offer for employment to their start up magazine: _W_ , the witch time magazine.

She pulled her purse closer and took in the bustling scene around her.   Hermione was not at all worried that she would be married off to any one of their sons, and thought it absurd that Severus would imply that such a thing would be written into an employment contract.

As Hermione turned the corner of Diagon Alley and Juniper Lane, her eyes grew a bit in size for a moment. She had never been to this part of town, in fact, wasn’t consciously aware that it was even here. Slowing her pace just slightly, Hermione looked around. There weren’t as many people, or average blokes, like there was in Diagon Alley. Most of the magical beings were very well dressed in business robes or wearing Ministry mantles. The grasses and trees were nicely manicured, the benches and streets were cleaner than in the Alley, and even the Owls seemed to be better behaved as they dropped packages in designated areas outside the pristine looking buildings. Hermione irrationally thought it seemed sunnier, and with less noise. Hermione reached into the pocket of her sleek navy blue pant suit ensemble and smiled again at her shoes. They were faux basilisk skin spiked heels with a silver tip on the toe and spike. Her suit was trendy and fit her well, while looking professional, but in her opinion, it needed a bit more pizazz, so she picked out shoes that spoke of the power of femininity. It went well with the trustworthy blue.

Even though The Ladies had offered her the position and Hermione knew they were as on board with this partnership as she was, she wanted them to know that she was worthy of their trust and that their confidence in her as a representative of their magazine was not misplaced.

She looked at her watch. She was a bit early and decided to take a moment to think about her male situation. It had been a few days since she’d spoken to any of the wizards currently occupying her thoughts. Though, she had fielded enough owl posts to last her a life time, over the recent days. She’d expected the three posts from Draco, and even the one from Marcus, but Harry had owled her twice, persisting on when he could see her again.

Sighing with resignation, she pondered her relationship with and feelings for Harry. She’d loved him then and she loved him now, but the love was not romantic. It was platonic; familial. That night that they had reconnected, she was a little tipsy and a little giddy and little uncertain. The kiss had been warm and pleasant, but had not sparked any kind of sexual feelings.

Although, she could see the logic in having a romantic relationship with Harry. He was familiar – he’d known her at her worst and accepted her. The problem was that she didn’t want familiar, she wanted new and unknown and a little taboo.

She needed to have that difficult conversation with Harry, but right now, she had a meeting to attend.

Standing and pulling out the slip of paper, holding the address on it, she walked onto the sidewalk again and looked for her street.

Hermione was focusing so much on the street signs that she ran smack dab into a patrol Auror.

“Oh dear! I’m so sorry! I-“

“Miss Granger?”

Hermione focused on his round face and dangling whistle. She didn’t recognize him. “Yes,” she said, wearing a semi-not-quite-sure smile.

The rolly patrol Auror laughed so loudly that Hermione jumped a bit; she didn’t think she’d said anything funny.

He took her hands in his and pushed his face within inches of hers. She fought to pull back; she didn’t want to appear rude, but this wizard was a bit too familiar.

“Me wife’s gonna think I’ve gone nutters when I tell ‘er ‘bout meeting you, Miss Hermione!”

Hermione was trapped and wasn’t sure what to say. “Ohh, well-“

His eyes darted around her face and he wore a very satisfied smile. “Say Marm, would you spell me?”

“Pardon?” she asked completely confused.

“Y’know, curse me a little? Maybe just light Cruciatus? Jus’ something to tell me mates!”

Hermione blinked and pulled her hands from his, quite forcefully. “First, the Cruciatus Curse is illegal and with good reason. So, no – just, no. And second-“

“Hermione?” a feminine voice spoke from close behind the two and Hermione turned to see who it was. Smiling and relieved, she stepped to stand beside Katesch.

They hugged briefly and kissed cheeks then Katesch faced the patrol Auror. He was wearing a sour expression now and meeting Katesch’s gaze. “A friend of yours?” she asked, not breaking eye contact with the now red-faced man.

“Not exactly. He wanted me to _curse_ him…”

That was enough to invoke a predatory smile and raised eyebrow from Katesch, and a baffled expression from Hermione. “Were you able to accommodate him, Hermione?” Katesch asked, then offered the Auror a sultry expression and stepped into his personal space. With a long fingernail trailing down his Auror insignia, which laid crooked on the right side of his chest, she whispered; every word dripping with sex appeal and sultry tones. “Is there anything I can do to fulfill your desire to be cursed, Auror-“ Her almond shaped eyes darted to his name tag, “Festerhip?”

The Auror huffed and spoke to Hermione. “I’d be mindful of the company I keep, Marm.” He wobbled away, swinging his whistle chain in one hand and resting his other on his wand holster. Hermione immediately thought of Charlie Chaplin.

The two witches shared a mischievous look then made their way to a small, but quaint building, with a hobbit door and flowers on each window sill. Hermione squinted at the paradox of modern buildings that were shaped like lipstick, with shiny metals and smooth edges as a backdrop to a square and traditional English cottage. It was larger inside than it looked, of course. The two witches walked in chuckling about the patrol Auror and how positively scandalized he seemed to be after Katecsh’s behavior.

As they entered, Hermione noted that there were four desks with four secretaries all smiling. The secretary closest to them, on the left stood and greeted the two.

“Hello Lady Rosier, and you are Miss Granger, I presume?”

Hermione nodded and lent her hand for greeting. The secretary took it and introduced herself and the other secretaries. “I’m Hestia Grace, Lady Rosier’s personal assistant.” She motioned to each of the others as she introduced them. Hermione nodded to them all and said hello.

Katesch then routed her to the back office, to find Narcissa, Elizabeth, and Tova sipping tea and waiting. They all stood upon Hermione’s entrance. The witches each greeted each other with smiles and an air of excitement. Once Hermione had tea, they got down to business.

**_OoO_ **

Hermione had signed, initialed, and acknowledged the contractual obligations and was now walking happily to her mentor’s office at Hogwarts for lunch and chat; and to let the former Head of Gryffindor look over the contract. Hermione was quite excited and wanted Minnie to share in that excitement.

“Feline Mystique,” spoke Hermione quite clearly to the gargoyle protecting the entrance to the Headmistresses suite.

It jumped aside and Hermione skipped up the spiraled stone staircase.

“Minnie,” Hermione called out as she entered the space and then stopped abruptly. She scrunched her face with distaste at the scene in front of her.

Severus and Minerva were engaged in what only could be described as a female Dementor sucking the soul out of Severus one lip at a time. His body was bent back and partially splayed on the couch, one arm holding tightly to the arm and the other fisting a cushion. Hermione could only see the whole of Minerva’s mouth physically covering Severus’ mouth, most of his rather significant nose and some of his cheek and the wizard looked like he was in heaven.  

They broke from the kiss, breathless and worn, and looking completely satisfied. Minvera took a deep breath as she stood and gently wiped at the sides of her mouth as if she had just enjoyed a good meal. Severus stayed motionless for a moment before he began to pull himself together.

Through all this, Hermione stood in the doorway, head tilted and horrified expression.

“Do close your mouth, Miss Granger. You’ll catch flies.”

Hermione clicked her jaw shut and moved to sit down – on the chair and not the couch. Though, she immediately looked at the cushions as suspect when Minnie gave a small, distant smile flashed across her face. Forcing herself to settle in, Hermione smiled and showed them the contract.

“It’s all done! I’m officially the editor-in-chief of _W_ magazine!”

Just as Minerva clapped her hands and smiled broadly to wish Hermione congratulations, Severus Accio’d the contract and began to flip through it. Hermione was only a little bit put out by this, and decided that instead of frowning at Severus’ not surprising actions, she would share in Minnie’s enthusiasm.

A few minutes went by with Hermione telling Minerva about the job and about The Ladies and plans to purchase land, Severus interrupted.

“Hermione,” he paused as his eyes clearly reread a sentence several times. “What does this mean exactly? ‘ _By accepting the terms of this contract you hereby submit to court proposals made by the company, its associates, and stakeholders_.’

Hermione was about to answer, and in fact, opened her mouth to speak when Minerva dropped shook her head and sighed. “Oh dear.”

Hermione frowned. “What? Isn’t that where I have a vested interest in new work?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at Minnie’s protégé. “No, Miss Granger, think… _proposals_...?”

It took a moment before the penny dropped. “Oh…”

“Yes,” he agreed, “Oh…”

 

 

 


End file.
